


Falling, Falling, Flying

by hey_its_lyn



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dick Grayson Angst, Guilt, Hurt Tim Drake, I'm Sorry, Major character death - Freeform, Regret, The League of Assassins (DCU), Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake Whump, Tim's Fight with Ra's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_its_lyn/pseuds/hey_its_lyn
Summary: Tim doesn't think of much as he falls.At least he knows that Bruce will be proud of him.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 33
Kudos: 371





	Falling, Falling, Flying

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be part of Whumptober, but senior year decided to kick my butt, so I didn't get any of the prompts filled, even though I had an outline for all 31 days. If I have time, I might write and upload them sporadically. I still have like two dozen other story ideas, and I graduate in six weeks so... yeah.
> 
> This is not my best writing. I wrote this in one, two-hour sitting, and posted it about half an hour later. But I was excited because it's the first time I've really written in over a month. Overall, I give it a 4/10.
> 
> Oh well :)

Tim doesn’t think of much as he falls.

He can hear the wind in his ears through the lining of his cowl, can see the flickering lights of Wayne Tower in the night, forming starbursts as the air curls around him. His vision is blurring, making the city look a bit like an oil painting from his childhood.

The pain is nothing more than a dull ache, and Tim exhales slowly, the heavy feeling in his chest lifting for the first time in nearly a year.

_ I did it. _

He’s sent all of his research to the Justice League, and a copy will be sent to the Batcomputer by midnight, arriving when a countdown hits zero from within Tim’s encrypted system. Just to be safe, Tam has a flash drive holding the hard copy of everything he’s found over the past six months. All of the evidence that Batman--that _Bruce--_ is alive.

She’s promised to give it to Dick, and if he won’t take it, to her father. Lucius will make sure everything gets where it needs to go.

_ I saved the people he loved. _

_ I saved everything he worked so hard to build. _

Everyone is alive, protected by his allies, and Wayne Enterprises is safe.

The Council of Spiders has been dealt with, and the League of Assassins will be rebuilding their network for the next decade, at least. While Ra’s may have won their fight, he certainly didn’t escape unscathed.

_ No compromises. _

For once, all the pieces of the puzzle have fallen together.

Kon and Bart are alive, and Cassie has left the cult devoted to Superboy. The Titans will be able to reform, a new Robin waiting to join them. Damian’s not ready yet, and he hopes that they find a way to work together. The Titans don’t deserve to fall apart again.

Bruce will be back in his own time within the next few days. Sooner, probably, if Superman has anything to say about it. Wayne Enterprises will be waiting for when Bruce is ready to return, and Dick can go back to being Nightwing. He was never meant to be Batman; it’s too heavy of a burden for someone as light as him. Damian will have his father back, and Alfred his son.

Last he heard, Jason has detoxed from the Lazarus Pit, and he may be ready to form some sort of truce with the Bats, something that will allow him to come home to Gotham and reconnect with the family that has never stopped loving him.

For once in Tim’s life, everything has worked out just as it’s supposed to.

_ He won’t say anything, he never does. But I know. _

_ I know that Bruce will be  _ **_proud_ ** _ of me. _

His eyes are drifting shut as the world fades around him one last time.

_ Not a bad day. _

/\/\/\

Dick is swinging through the city as fast as he can. Barbara has just sent the confirmation that all of the people being targeted by Ra’s and the League are safe, and everyone is reconvening at the Cave. Still, she had told him that Tim was facing Ra’s at Wayne Tower, alone, and that he needed to hurry. Dick doesn’t even want to think about the damage Ra’s could do in the time it takes him to cross the city and reach Tim. 

God,  _ Tim _ .

He hasn’t seen him since the incident with the Black Lanterns, when Hal Jordan told him there’s a chance that Bruce may not really be dead. He wasn’t able to talk to Tim, to try and explain why Damian needed Robin and convince him to come home. During the entire fight, he never once saw his little brother’s face. It stayed hidden behind that horrible cowl, and he was gone before Dick even had a chance to reach out.

How Tim, responsible, smart, independent little Timmy, ever managed to become entangled with the League baffles him. Let alone getting into a situation where he has to face Ra’s al Ghul alone. Even Bruce struggled to go toe-to-toe with the Demon’s Head.

As soon as they’re done, he’s going to hug his brother, welcome him home, and demand an explanation.

Still, he has to get to Tim first.

Dick has been flying through these streets since he was nine years old. Gotham City is his playground, and he takes every shortcut he can think of to make it to Wayne Tower. His comm is silent in his ear, but he can almost imagine Stephanie and Damian arguing back at the Cave as Barbara continues to direct the Birds of Prey through the city, looking for any remaining threats.

Dick forces himself to focus. He can’t afford to be distracted thinking about what it will be like to have another one of his little brothers home when he needs to make sure said little brother survives the night.

Wayne Tower stands tall in distance, and Dick is nearly there, only a few minutes away, when he sees something break through the window and begin hurtling towards the ground. His heart leaps into his throat.

Dick is moving faster than he ever thought possible. The air is whistling in his ears as the sound of his pulse drowns out everything else around him. Panic is steadily rising in his chest as he comes closer and closer to the Tower.

His grapple carries him across longer distances than he normally risks, and Dick drops to the ground from much, much higher than he is supposed to. He ignores the pain that jolts through his bones, rolling onto his feet and sprinting toward the crumpled body that lies in the street outside Wayne Enterprises.

A sob catches in his throat as Dick falls to his knees, frantically searching for a pulse even though he knows that it’s too late.

Red Robin is on his back, more than half of his cowl torn from his face. His uniform is shredded, and blood seeps from a cut across Tim’s middle. He’s absolutely covered in bruises, blood smeared across his face and leaking from his nose and ears.

The uniform absorbed much of the damage, and Dick can only imagine the carnage that lies under the layers of kevlar. Blood is already soaking through the remainder of Tim’s cowl, spilling across the cement as Dick frantically leans above his brother, listening for the smallest hint of a heartbeat or a breath.

Logically, he knows that any damage sustained from a fall that high is fatal, too great for even the best of doctors to fix. Still, Dick sucks in a breath as tears cloud his eyes, putting his hands on Tim’s chest and pushing down. Tim’s ribs are already broken, so Dick doesn’t worry about the CPR hurting him further.

He’s not sure how long he’s there, knees digging into the ground as he tries to restart his brother’s heart. His tears are soaking through the white-out lenses of his own cowl, making it hard to see as Tim’s ribs snap under the pressure of his hands.

“C’mon, Red,” he gasps, voice catching as he tries to breathe through the snot and tears and shock. “You don’t get to die, you hear me? You don’t get to die!” The sob building in his chest spills past his lips. “Red, c’mon, Tim,  _ please _ .”

His voice cracks and Barbara’s soothing words fill his ears, free from the modulation of Oracle’s toneless voice.

_ “That’s enough, Dick,”  _ she says softly.  _ “He’s gone.” _

Something awful wrenches in Dick’s chest. “Babs, he can’t… I… I never got to…”

_ “I know.” _ Her voice shakes, and Dick knows she’s blinking back tears of her own.  _ “I know, Dick, but it’s time to bring him home.” _

/\/\/\

By the time he makes it back to the Cave, Tim’s blood has soaked into Dick’s uniform, sticking the kevlar to his skin. His eyes are red, and he’s long since run out of tears. After calling the Batmobile to his location, he hasn’t let go of Tim, instead cradling the boy to his chest and thinking about everything he did wrong.

And that’s what Tim is, Dick realizes, as he holds him close and climbs out of the car. A boy. Tim’s just a  _ boy _ , a  _ child  _ who will never get to finish growing up. A child who hasn’t been home, who hasn’t seen his family in over six months, who has lost everything and everyone he’s ever known and has given his life for the stupid mission that brought him into Dick’s life in the first place.

Dick’s fingers curl into Tim’s prone body as he forces himself to move out of the vehicle bay and into the main portion of the Cave. His boots drag on the ground, eyes stuck on Tim’s face, pale, bloody, and broken.

“Grayson!”

It takes an enormous amount of effort to look away from Tim’s lax features, his gaunt cheekbones and sunken skin. He doesn’t look at peace, even in death.

Damian is storming towards him, still dressed in the Robin suit, hands clenched into fists.

“Dami--”

“Tell those infernal teammates of Drake’s that if they do not--”

Damian’s tirade cuts off abruptly when he sees Tim dangling from Dick’s arms.

“What on Earth did you do to get him to be quiet?” Stephanie peaks her head around the corner when his voice fades, brows raised. “He hasn’t shut up about them since…”

She freezes when she spots Dick standing still, Tim clutched even tighter to his chest than before.

“No,” she breathes. She attempts to take a step forward before her legs give out and she collapses to her knees, sinking to the ground as her hands cup her mouth, tears filling her eyes. “No… Not  _ Tim _ . What… Dick...”

“What in Heaven's name is going on here?” Alfred appears around the corner as well, and the blood drains from his face when his eyes settle on Dick and the body held in his arms. “Master Timothy?”

Alfred meets Dick’s eyes, and Dick looks back down at his little brother’s face.

“I…” His voice is caught in his throat, his eyes burning with the tears he doesn’t have. “I was too late. When I got there--”

His voice breaks, and not even a second later, there is a rush of air, and the Conner Kent is standing in the Batcave, his eyes locked on Tim. Not even a second later, Bart is standing beside him, though he stumbles back and falls onto his rear when he sees his best friend lifeless in his big brother’s arms. Cassie is there right after, and she skids to a stop, eyes going wide as her stomach falls, making her feel as though she’s going to be sick.

“What happened?”

Dick looks up, and Conner’s eyes are glowing as he takes a step forward, hands shaking as they clench into tight fists. Dick blinks, searching for something, anything to say. Conner doesn’t give him the chance.

_ “What happened?” _

Damian hisses, whirling around and pulling his sword. “Mind your tongue, clone.”

Conner bares his teeth. “That’s funny coming from you, Demon Brat,” he snarls. “Maybe if you’d watched your mouth when you first got here, Tim wouldn’t be dead!”

Damian scowls. “Drake’s incompetence is in no way a fault of mine.”

“If you knew shit about Tim Drake, you’d know that he’s anything but incompetent.”

“And yet here we are.”

“Damian!” Dick snaps, horrified by the absolute vehemence in the boy’s voice.

Damian glares at him. “This merely proves what I’ve been saying all along! Drake is useless, and now it has gotten him killed.”

Conner moves to rush forward, and it’s only Cassie’s ironclad grip around his bicep that keeps him from attacking the kid.

“Maybe if you’d listened to him and supported him from the beginning, Tim wouldn’t be dead!”

“Think what you want,” Damian huffs, “but the Pretender has always been subpar at best.”

“How  _ dare  _ you?”

“That’s enough!”

Everyone startles at Alfred’s words. Conner’s eyes are still glowing red, trained on a furious Damian. Cassie and Dick are staring at Alfred, and Bart and Stephanie’s eyes are still locked on Tim’s body.

“Master Timothy--” They all ignore how Alfred’s voice breaks on his name-- “would not want you all fighting.” Damian scoffs, but Alfred silences him with a look. “If your father were here, he would want you to honor Master Timothy’s memory, not tarnish it.”

Damian glowers and presses his lips into a thin line.

Before anyone else can speak up, Cassie steps forward, her fingers tightening around Kon’s arm in an attempt to ground herself.

“We’ll take responsibility for Tim’s body,” she says shakily.

“It’s not like he belongs with the Waynes anyway,” Conner mutters.

“He’s my brother!” Dick snaps.

“Like you’ve always acted like one,” Conner snarls. “Where were you when he needed you, huh?”

“It’s not like you were there either!”

“I was dead! At least I cared enough about Tim to listen to him when he needed me!”

“Because you’ve never hurt him either.”

“Fuck off,” Kon snarls. “I’ve been a damn better brother to Tim than you ever were, asshole.”

“I told you to watch your tongue, clone!” Damian snaps. “I am not afraid to cut it out.”

Conner glares at him, eyes pulsing red. “You’re welcome to try.”

“I said that is enough!”

Even Conner freezes at Alfred’s shout. Alfred never raises his voice. Ever.

The butler takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at all of them one-by-one. The wrinkles that line his face suddenly seem much more apparent than before.

“It is a dishonor to his name to act like this before Master Timothy has even been put to rest.”

Conner steps back, lips pressed tightly together. Bart has made his way to his feet and is clinging to Conner’s hand. Cassie takes his other hand and raises her chin.

“We’ll be on our way,” she says. “I don’t want to spend another second in this godforsaken city, let alone with the people who let Tim down when he needed you the most.”

She tugs both Bart and Conner away, and the trio disappears seconds later. The Cave is silent, the Bats left staring at the place where Tim’s best friends stood. 

“Vermin,” Damian hisses, moments later. “There is a reason Father did not allow their kind in his city.”

“Master Damian, that is quite enough.”

Damian glares petulantly, opening his mouth to respond. He is cut off by the sound of a message alert on the Batcomputer. Alfred quells the boy’s retort with one last look before he spins on his heel and makes his way into the Cave’s main bay. He stands before the Batcomputer as Stephanie follows Dick to lay Tim’s body down in the med bay until they can call Leslie before she disappears upstairs.

“My word,” Alfred whispers.

“Alfred?”

Dick comes to stand behind him, leaning forward to read the message alert. His eyes widen.

Displayed on the screen of the Batcomputer are dozens of files. Photographs, maps, notes written in Tim’s messy, cramped scrawl. It takes him a moment to sort through the information, and when he does, his heart sinks. Dick bows his head.

“What is it?” Damian asks.

“Tim was right,” Dick whispers.

“What? Speak up, Grayson.”

Dick doesn’t turn to face his youngest brother, his Robin. “Tim was right,” he repeats.

“It appears so,” Alfred says softly.

“Right about what?”

Dick’s eyes burn. “Bruce is alive.”

Damian’s back straightens, his eyes wide. “Father is alive?”

Dick nods. “Bruce is alive. He’s lost in time. Tim was right.”

Silence settles over the Cave. The three stare at the screen, the photos of Bats carved into stone walls, legends and folktales of Batman centuries before any metahuman or alien was known to exist, portraits of Bruce from hundreds of years ago.

It seems that it’s been long enough that his tear ducts have refilled, as his vision blurs, tears spilling down his cheeks as he drops his head into his hands.

“Tim was right,” he whispers, “and he died thinking that no one believed him.” His shoulders shake as his breath hitches. “He never got to come home. He died thinking that he was completely alone.”


End file.
